‘Curiosity killed the pussy.’ This is what
they had forgotten to tell Mr. Steven Akumu. ‘Bang!’ The house shook, smoke
filled the compound, shots rang out. Azrael was come. But how did we get here?
Mr. Steven Akumu, a man of big ambition. He
had thrown his hat in the ring, intent to unseat the reigning Member of
Parliament for Mashimoni. That is before he shifted his residence and his
political base.
Now, Mashimoni is a placid place. A placid
place, on ordinary days. The people – courteous, friendly, going about their
bustles fashionably late, lazily, even. But come election time, the waters are
stirred and trouble reigns in paradise. Then, gangs of marauding youths, with
machetes – brandished and concealed – are employed to control the electoral
outcome. The lingo – ‘to secure the bases’, and on election day, ‘to guard the
vote’. Their leaders, they supplement these efforts with a pistol or two.
Mr. Steven Akumu began his campaigns
innocently enough. He had not gotten the memo that the youth were hungry and
that their permission was to be sought first. Mr. Steven Akumu, in his
ignorance, held a well-attended meeting at Kimbozi Restaurant. This restaurant,
quite polished by the constituency’s – peri-urban – standards. It had meeting
rooms, halls, and even grounds. It was on these grounds, tented, that he held
his first political meeting.
A bit on Mashimoni market to move our story
forward. Mashimoni market, and the women who sell here, influential beings.
They got cash, they got ‘nyash’ – well-stocked goods and fully-developed
posteriors. Men, they had fought over these women – loud, obnoxious,
opinionated. Time and time again, they determined electoral outcomes. They were
courted by all candidates and made a tidy pile out of this. Slippery, still, no
one knew for sure whom they voted for.
The meeting was going on well. Mr. Steven
Akumu promising them roads, expansion of the market, boreholes, and other
things not of this world. They had heard that time and again. He changed tact.
Invited their leaders to have their say on their government and their
development. They were loquacious, these women, they were.
God, the man who operates from above, his
work is mysterious. His ways too. The fact that he let these women talk, that
was his saving grace. Mr. Steven Akumu, he had planned to spend an hour or two
with these women, then move on and celebrate the clergy as they had ready and
gullible followers – easy pickings as voters. His phone vibrated, he glanced at
it. An alarming message, ‘They are almost there. Run for your life!’
Mr. Steven Akumu, he excused himself for
the gents. A minute later, there was pandemonium as a group of goons descended
on the venue, with every intention of despatching him to celestial glories.
Unable to get hold of him, they sought to cripple him financially – breaking
chairs and windows of the restaurant. He would have to compensate for these.
Again, no restaurant would host him after this. In the evening, the area MP
dissociated himself from ‘this unfortunate hooliganism’ and personally
apologised to the market women. In return, they promised him their undivided
loyalty.
Mr. Steven Akumu, he had so many learning opportunities
before this unfortunate incident. Foremost, party nominations – preliminaries
to the actual voting. Ambitious as he was, he had joined the main party… him,
the reigning Member of Parliament, and serious opposition to the reigning
Member of Parliament. It is just as well that the reigning MP did not feel that
Mr. Steven Akumu was a serious threat… the other guy, he had been ransacked
properly, then carried head high and chucked over the gate to the school that
was the nominations venue. This, then, was the cue for the electoral officials
– seconded from party headquarters – to declare the incumbent as the party’s
candidate.
Mr. Steven Akumu, after his lucky escape,
he contacted the number that had warned him. They met at a very public place –
Manyanja Drinking Post – where he was well-known and was even considered a
friend. The youth leader, Tom Masikari, briefed him adequately. That his – Mr.
Steven Akumu’s way – was no way to carry out a campaign. The constituency, it
had its owners, including youth gangs. Consequently, Tom Masikari became an
integral part of Mr. Steven Akumu’s campaign efforts – security, vandalism,
introducing him ‘to the ground’… Mr. Steven Akumu, running on an opposition
platform, had a real shot of unseating the incumbent.
The election date neared. The incumbent
conducted day campaigns and nightly meetings. Mr. Steven Akumu, he only
conducted day campaigns, never spending more than half an hour at any
particular spot. Mobility, that was his secret, sold to him by Tom Masikari. He
did not spend the nights at his house – raided four times now – either.
Different hotels, outside the constituency. He also changed vehicles – hired at
great risk – often… arriving in a boda boda, leaving in a Probox, etc., etc. He
was giving the incumbent a run for his money. The incumbent did not like that.
Now, elections are no place for permanency
of friends. In hindsight, as he recuperated at the hospital, weeks beyond the
voting day, he had the revelation. That someone in his campaign team, probably
Tom Masikari, had sold him out. The night, ghost and shadows, it belonged to
them. Earlier, there was the hooting of an owl, and Mr. Steven Akumu, educated
as he was, he felt superstitious. The Ministry of Wildlife, it had dissuaded
people from this superstition, long-ingrained in their culture, to save the owl
population. Again, culture is a stubborn animal.
Two young men - Tom Masikari and another - very dead. That long night. Again, the incumbent
had disassociated himself from the violence, insinuating a falling out in Mr.
Steven Akumu’s camp. That Tom Masikari, seeing the hopelessness in Mr. Steven
Akumu’s candidacy, had sought to switch sides. That was how the incumbent
regained his seat amidst low murmuring. He did increase school bursaries to quieten
the murmurs, though. Very effective, this. Mr. Steven Akumu, very grateful to
see another day, he moved residency after his miraculous escape and recovery.
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